


Mysterion and The People He's Saved

by WittyPiglet



Category: South Park
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Bulimia, Bullying, Cyber Bullying, Depression, Drug Abuse, F/M, Homophobia, M/M, Mugging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Racism, Self-Harm, Sexism, Sexual Harassment, suicidal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-07-01 08:52:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15770745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WittyPiglet/pseuds/WittyPiglet
Summary: Sometimes it was just Kenny that did the saving too.





	1. Tweek Tweak

He was scared. So scared as he stared down the cold barrel of a gun. He was shaking, more than his usual twitching. His thermos was on the ground, opened with hot coffee sloshing out of it as h rolled away. Tears welled up in forest green eyes as the mugger pushed the gun against his head.

"Cough it up, all the money and valuables on you." He was still shaking as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, all he had was ten dollars that he handed over without a word. "Is this all?!" He cocks the gun and Tweek lets out a small shriek.

"Y-Y-Y-Y-Yes!! I-I-I-I s-s-s-s-s-sw-ACK!ear!!" Tweek trembled more as fresh tears cascaded down his pale cheeks. He held his hands up and dropped his wallet as he had done with his thermos. "Th-Th-That's all I-I-AGH!-I h-have!!!!" The mugger pushed his gun harder against Tweek's head and the terrified teen gave a quiet whimper as sweat trickled down his forehead to mix with his tears.

"Are you lying to me?!"

"ACK!! NO! I-I-I would n-ne-URK!-ver!!" Tweek gave the mugger a pleading look but he just glared.

"Turn around and get on your knees with you hands on your head." The mugger was calm as he spoke with an underlying warning in his tone. Tweek was openly sobbing now as he turned around and knelt down on his knees as quickly as his shaking and twitching body could. He placed his hands atop his messy, all over the place blonde hair. Oh God! He was going to die! What would happen to all the people he cared about!! His parents, his friends. Craig and their little Stripe.... More tears fell as he realized he would never get to see them again. The gun cocked again and Tweek waited for his execution.

Only...It never came. There was no sound behind him at all. Not even the heavy breathing of his kidnapper. Hesitantly, and still shaking, Tweek glanced over his shoulder. He breathed a sob of relief when he saw his mugger unconscious and on the ground. His head was bleeding and his gun had skittered over towards the wall of the alley. A masked man was in the process of tying him up. Tweek would recognize the M on top of that dark hood anywhere. He remembered it vividly from their childhood.

"Ke-" He stopped himself. Wasn't that the number one rule of superheroes? Don't reveal their secret identity? Tweek swallowed and stood on trembling legs as tears continued to leave trail marks down his cheeks. "I-I-UGH! m-m-mean Mys-Mysterion?" Said caped crusader looked over at the shaking boy with a small smile.

"Let's get you home Tweekers." He picked up the long forgotten fallen thermos and handed it to the twitching boy. Mysterion wrapped an arm around Tweek's shaking shoulders and steered him out of the alley and down the street as sirens began blaring behind them. Neither looked back.


	2. Butters Stotch

Butters sobbed quietly as he was pushed hard to the ground and kicked in the stomach. He whimpered as he was kicked harder in the back. The bullies above him laughed and taunted him. There were three beating on him and another guarding the boy's bathroom door. Butters was hauled to his feet and pushed against the row of sinks as the three began closing in on him. They cracked their knuckles and smirked.

"C'mon, why don't you sing your faggy little apple song faggot?" The one in the center laughed and struck Butters hard across the face, leaving an angry red mark that would surely bruise come morning and he would be grounded again for "fighting". Butters sobbed louder and held his left cheek as the bullies to the right and left of him grabbed his arms in vice like grips. They dragged him to a stall and kicked the door open and shoving Butters in. He caught himself on the side of the toilet bowl so he wouldn't bash his head in against it. The center bully, or the leader Butters assumes, stepped in with his lackeys behind him.

"Hey!" A shout from outside of the stall caught his attention. "I said you can't go in there!" It was the bully guarding the door.

"And I said I don't care." It was a calm, nearly muffled reply. The bullies in the stall and Butters all stared out as none other than Kenny Fucking McCormick stepped in and up the sink. He turned though and stared at the group in the small, singular stall. The moment his eyes landed on Butters they darkened. "What, pray tell, is going on here?"

One of the brutes laughed, almost nervously. "We're just about to give Stotch a free shower!" Wrong choice of words.

"I don't believe he wants one." Kenny stepped closer to the group. "C'mon Butters I'll walk you back to class." As the blonde went to hurriedly stand, he was pushed back down by one of his attackers shoes.

"Stay right where you are Stotch!" Said boy cowered and that's when all hell broke lose.

It was over quickly and Kenny left the bathroom with his arm around Butters and four groaning teenagers beaten to a pulp of varying degrees behind them.

Least to say, no one ever bothered Butters after word spread.


	3. Clyde Donovan

He'd be fine. It's okay to keep going. Clyde spoke this to himself like a mantra as he shoved fingers down his throat and threw up more of his meals that day. Shove, puke, repeat. He kept going and going and going till chunks stopped coming up, till acid burned his throat. Then he stopped. He rinsed his mouth out, brushed his teeth, gargled mouth wash and went to sleep.

Only to repeat the ritual the next day.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

This kept going on for weeks. Months. Years. Since he was dubbed the second fattest kid next to Eric Cartman in the fourth grade. He's a Junior now. His clothes hid the severity of it all. He still laughed and hung out with his friends on a daily basis. His smiles never reached his eyes though. The bags under them were prominent. But people usually dubbed that to sleeping problems. No one knew of his rituals. Not his family nor his friends. He got sloppy in hiding it though.

One day right after lunch, Clyde had rushed to the boy's bathroom and barfed up every morsel of food he had consumed. He didn't check to see if the bathroom was empty and he really should have. Clyde kept shoving his fingers down his throat and heaved up more bile into the porcelain bowl.

"Do you think that helps?" A quiet voice from behind sent Clyde jumping as he scrambled to his feet and flushed the toilet. "It doesn't you know." Clyde didn't turn to face the face of disappointment that matched the voice. "It just means your self image is more important than your health. That it has a vice on your balls man. It's controlling you, taking over your daily life and slowly killing you. Sure it's slower than Ana but Mia is going to kill you in the end. She wont stop and you. Will. Die Clyde Donovan."

The jock, who still refused to turn and look at this person behind him, was standing quietly and staring at the tiled floor in shame as tears rolled down his red cheeks.

"And when you die from this what do you think it'll do to your family and friends, huh?" Clyde blinked, taken aback. "You and your family already lost your mother when you were young. Do you know what it would do to your father if he lost you too? What about your little sister who looks up to her big brother like he's invincible and nothing but happy? Do you even KNOW the amount of damage you are doing not only to yourself but to your family as well?"

"I...I..." Clyde couldn't come up with any form of an excuse to explain himself.

"You what? Are an idiot for not thinking about your family and friends? Yeah, you are. What about Craig and Tweek and Token, huh? You are one of their closest friends and it'll kill them to know you died because of this and they could have helped you if they knew about it. What about the rest of the school too? Everyone loves you! How about Bebe? She is one of your closest friends too and this would break her heart and you know it!"

The light trickle of tears slowly became a full fucking waterfall and made dripping sounds as they splashed on the bathroom tile. The other boy didn't say anything for a long moment.

"Try. Not for just you, but for them too. Because they're worth it and so are you." Retreating footsteps, a slamming door and Clyde was left completely alone and staring down at dirty and tear soaked tiles.

He didn't know if he could get better...but he would damn sure try.


	4. Bebe Stevens

It was at a party she threw when he saved her. Bebe always threw the best parties and there was plenty of booze flowing that night seeing as her parents were gone for the weekend. Teenagers were dancing, playing beer pong, socializing, eating, hooking up. Doing just about whatever they damn well pleased and living in the moment. This was the way Bebe liked her parties to go. Her and her friends acting as if they didn't have a single care in the world. It made her so happy, especially when they could all relax after they finished the stressful weeks leading up to finals. Life was perfect at this moment.

Well, until she let someone else get her a drink. She knew that was a party goer's #1 rule: NEVER let someone else get you a drink or leave yours unsupervised. But she was having too much fun and was tipsy quite a bit. It was a boy that graduated last year, she thinks. He handed her the drink with a barely there smirk. He was smug, too smug for Bebe's liking. But, she downed her cup anyways in five seconds flat.

Everything after that was a big, huge blur.

Bebe remembered Wendy asking if she was okay and seeing a few worried looks from her friends but she waved them off. She remembered catching Kenny McCormick's eyes from across the room as she stumbled to the stairs. She grinned and gave him a thumbs up before the finger bang. A person had wrapped his arm around her waist and led her up the stairs and she hazily remembered it was the guy who got her a drink. She remembers being dragged into her bedroom and dropped on her bed where she stared at the swirling ceiling, the guy just out of site.

Then he began pulling at her shirt. Bebe mustered up just enough energy to struggle as much as her drug-induced body could. She tried hitting him and pushing him away, but her only held her tiny wrists with one hand and continued to undo her shirt with the other. Bebe was quietly crying now and tried to kick her legs but he held them still with his own. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed someone would help her.

And they were answered.

A deep, menacing voice spoke from out of Bebe's eye range. "If you know what's good for you, you'll get your fucking hands off of her!" The words were growled in what could only be interpreted as unabated fury. The guy seemed at a momentary loss by what he was seeing but he soon scrambled to stand back up and ran for the door only to be caught by...Mysterion? She blearily turns her head enough to see what's going on. Mysterion has the guy up against the door and is saying something so quietly that Bebe can't make out the words, but the other guy looks about ready to piss himself. Mysterion drops him to the floor and he runs out of the room like the devil himself is on his tail.

Mysterion turns and approaches Bebe as she laid still on her bed. He crouches next to her and carefully rebuttons and fixes her clothes for her to give her some modesty. He smiles at her gently. "You okay?" All Bebe can manage is a sluggish nod. "Go to sleep, I'll make sure no one comes in for you." His smile is so genuine that Bebe gives another sluggish nod and manages to turn onto her side. She feels her covers being pulled up and smiles as she slowly falls asleep.

In the morning, as she wakes up with a killer hangover, she smiles again as she catches a glimpse of a cape and a giant M disappearing out her window. 


	5. Craig Tucker

_1 cut._

_2 cuts._

_3 cuts._

_4._

Too many to count. Too many to hide from him. He who notices everything around him. He who had a fucking reason to do this. Craig had no reason why he should do this to himself. So many others in South Park had every reason to hurt themselves. Especially  _him_. But Craig didn't know how to stop. He couldn't stop.

Cut after cut after cut after cut.

Left side.

Right side.

Upper arm.

Lower arm.

Inner thigh.

Outer thigh.

They littered his body. What was once a perfect, clean canvas was now a mess of bloody wounds. Both physical and mental.

Someone help him.

He didn't mean to do it this time. He just panicked. Cut a little too deep. It wasn't supposed to be like that this time. He was sorry. So, so sorry.

His vision was fading, black spotting against the edges.

He was sorry to his parent's, his sister, his friends...

He was so sorry he wasn't strong enough.

He was Craig Fucking Tucker. He was supposed to be strong, indestructible, unshakable, invincible...But he wasn't and this is the results. Blood ran in rivers from his wrist and splattered into the cold, white snow. He wasn't home, he was by Stark's Pond. At least it wouldn't be his family finding his body.

He was tired.

So, so tired.

He didn't mean too, honest he didn't. It was just a mistake. It was just a little too deep. He wasn't trying too...He really wasn't...

His hearing got fuzzy but he could faintly hear someone calling out his name.

"-aig!" Huh? "Craig!"

He tried to fight. Fight his way to the surface. Fight his way home. He opened glazed eyes and the first thing he saw was a purple hood and a green question mark. Fucking really, McCormick? He was saying something but Craig couldn't make it out. What he could make out was the painful pressure applied to his wrist. Craig's head lolled to the side and he caught Mysterion's eyes with his own.

"An ambulance is coming. You're going to be fine, I promise Tucker."

Mysterion doesn't lie.


	6. Christophe DeLorne

He had been badmouthing God again.

It pissed his mother and her newest boyfriend off. She stormed off and her boyfriend dealt with him.

He probably deserved what he got, but that didn't stop him from believing what he wanted.

What's a few more bruises added to his tan and dirty skin? He'll deal like he always does.

Because it's  _okay_.

But it's not.

It's really not.

A harsh blow to his gut sends him spiraling to the ground. Drunken slurs spewed as this waste of space piece of garbage waltzed towards him. What did his mother see in this man exactly? Only the faggot up above knew.

His head was killing him. Did he hit it when he fell? Did the drunk bastard hit him again? He didn't know.

Sirens could be heard in the distance. Did McCormick die again? Christophe fell backwards when trying to get up. Kicking? Wouldn't even punch him like a man anymore? Fucking pathetic, kicking someone when they're already down. Coward. A kick to the jaw knocked one of his canines out. The pearly tooth, slightly stained from nicotine, skittered across the floor and Christophe's mouth filled with blood. His arms gave out under him and he hit the floor hard. His eyes locked on the tooth and his eyes slid shut.

He jerked when he heard loud crashing filling his ears. Glass was scattering across the floor in front of his eyes. Loud shouts and pleas were called out. His mother screamed...A deep, menacing voice spoke above all the noise.

"You touch him again, and I'll unleash the same thing ten fold on you." Whimpers filled the air and suddenly banging filled the air.

"Police! Open up!"

And Christophe's eyes slipped blissfully shut.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

When Christophe woke up, he was in a hospital bed with an IV protruding from the crook of his elbow. A glance around the room showed a few of his friends asleep here and there. A heavy wait on his legs told him Gregory was passed out by his bedside.

"Hey."

Fucking McCormick with his stupid fucking grin.

"Bonjour."


	7. Token Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to apologize before hand for all offensive wording. It is strictly for the chapter as I myself do not have these views and it broke my heart to write a person saying such things. I tried to keep it to a minimum as I can't even stand writing things like this. I didn't even write some words completely, just used * for certain letters. It's one of the reasons I've been putting off his chapter so long. I know I could have just written someone else's chapter first, but I have an order. I guess it's why I made this chapter so short.

They were surrounding him, pushing and shoving him, yanking his backpack from his hands and emptying the contents all over the pavement.

"What's wrong Porch Monkey? Can't even be bothered to defend yourself?" The North Parker spat in his face. Token cringed and ended up backing away, falling against another's firm chest. His arms were pinned to his sides as he was held in place, only able to glare up at his assaulters.

The one in front of him sent a heavily blow to his unprotected stomach. Token coughed, trying to desperately pull in air as the hit literally knocked the breath from his lungs.

"Fucking ni**er!" Another slapped him across the face and tossed his empty bag away. This was more than just high school bullying. Way, way more. Token was struck again and swore under his breath. "Come on ni**er! Fight back!" A kick flew into his stomach and his knees went weak, it was only the North Parker holding him that he didn't crash to the ground.

Token was coughing louder and spit out a mouthful of blood, forever staining the dirty concrete.

"Hey!" More than one head turned to the sudden voice behind them. Not Token's though. His head was just lolling useless on his neck.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Us? What the hell are you wearing man? What are you? Some kind of super hero?"

"That's exactly what I am."

A single quick blow had the leader sprawling on the ground. The others all took a step back before charging at the mysterious man.

No. Token finally lifted his head. They were charging at Mysterion!

Another went down with a well-placed kick and the third was thrown over Mysterion's shoulder and into a park bench with a groan. The last North Parker, the one holding Token, let the boy go and slowly took a few steps back before turning and running with his tail between his legs. Token fell and hit his knees against the pavement, using his hands to catch himself before he face planted.

Mysterion knelt before him and handed him his backpack with all his things neatly back inside. "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah, the bruises will heal."

"That's not what I meant. Are you okay?"

"No..No I'm not..."


	8. Wendy Testaburger

It was a new teacher that started all this shit with his sexist remarks and chauvinistic actions. It pissed Wendy Testaburger right off and who could blame her? Especially when he failed her test paper just because she had to of cheated since women were "not that smart enough". She of course reported it to PC Principal and he was right furious and he tried to fire the teacher, but the man counteracted with his lawyers, putting the principal in a tough position.

It was completely unfair.

And he was getting worse and worse. Not even Eric Cartman was this bad when it came to his sexism.

And that was saying something.

"Awe, another failed paper miss Testaburger." He shook his head with another smug smirk as he set her essay on her desk. "Obviously copyrighted from somewhere. You should just drop out at this point and get back in the kitchen where girls like you belong."

Wendy stood and slammed her hands against her desk.

"Excuse me?!"

"Is there a problem miss. Testaburger? Do you need to be suspended for such aggressive and violent behavior. It must be your time of the month then, usually woman aren't so violent."

The dark haired girls face burned with anger and humiliation but before she, or anyone else for that matter, could speak up at the injustice of this, another body stood and raised it's hand.

"Excuse me sir?" All eyes darted to one Kenny McCormick.

"Yes," the teacher gritted out. For some reason he absolutely  _hated_  Kenny McCormick. "I know for a fact that Wendy did no such thing as copyright because her and me as well as Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski, Bebe Stevens, and Butters Stotch all worked on out essays in a group to help each other out and, as I'm sure you can see, all of our papers are vastly different. So, can you really call six separate students liars?"

"I-ugh-" The teacher seemed to be in shock as was the rest of the class. Wendy's eyes brimmed with tears as she watch Kenny McCormick continue, to stand up for  _HER_  of all people.

"Also, you can say goodbye to your job too. We have a class full of witnesses that saw you mention Wendy Testaburger's menstruation cycle which can be considered sexual harassment in many states and Kyle's dad is a really good lawyer. So I'm almost positive you are going to lose your job." Kenny winked and took a seat. No one made a sound, no one moved. Wendy slowly sat down at her desk. still reeling from the turn of events. It was silent all the way up until the bell rang.

And, sure enough, the chauvinistic bastard was gone within a month.


	9. Pip Pirrup

The ground looks inviting. Oh, so inviting.

It was at least ten stories below from where Pip stood hanging on to the safety railing on the building's roof.

_On the wrong side._

He swallowed and loosened his grip just barely on the railing. Did he really want to do this?

The answer was yes, yes he did.

Pip loosened his grip some more and closed his eyes.

The wind was blowing and cooling his skin to the touch. This was okay. It would be better this way.

"No, it wouldn't.

Eyes snapped open as two solid, muscled arms wrapped around Pip from behind, holding him against the railing. The body pressed against his back was warm, a vast contrast to the cool night.

Pip turned his head to catch a pair of baby blues hidden behind a purple hood.

"Wh-who..."

"It doesn't matter who I am. All that matters is that I will not let you throw your life away like this. You're wrong if you think it'll be better if you jump." Tears that he finally let free cascaded down Pip's pale cheeks. "People are going to miss you. They are going to cry and suffer without you in their lives."

"Heh," a broken chuckle escaped the Brit's chapped lips. "Who?" It was a whispered word. "Who would cry for me?"

The hooded individual seemed to be expecting this question and didn't miss a bit before he answered. "Me for one-" He shushed the other before he could interrupt. "I know your foster parents care a great deal for you above all else, as if you were their blood son." Pip's tears came quicker. "The kids at school would and, yes, even Eric Cartman would be lost without you." Slowly, without even attempting to struggle, Pip let the mysterious man pull him carefully over the metal railing. "Besides," he chuckled, "without you, then how are we gonna kick North Park's asses next week at the dodge ball game. We'd be lost without you."

"Ken-?" Pip choked on a sob.

"You're too smart not to have figured out my identity." He chuckled again and gently lowered the now sobbing English boy to the hard ground. "Please promise me something Pip."

"Anything."

"You'll give life...you'll give  _us_  a second chance?"

Wiping at the tears soaking his face, Pip gave a faint nod but that was all Mysterion needed. He rose to his feet and took off across the rooftops.

Pip's legs felt numb as he found the stairs.

He would try, at the very least.


	10. Stan Marsh

One more sip, then that is it. No more. For tonight at the very least.

That's what he always told himself anyways.

One sip always turned into a gulp which always turned into emptying the whole damn bottle and puking his guts up all over the bathroom tiles.

It was okay though. This was okay.

He chugged the remainder of his vodka. Mm, delicious.

"Stan? Stan, you home?" Feet pounded up the stairs like they normally did when his friends came over. He'd long since stopped yelling at them about it. He tossed the bottle across the room where it smashed against his Bauhaus poster, scratching the thin, papery material to hell. Stan, currently known as Raven, tossed himself back on his bed and grabbed a half full bottle of rum off his nightstand. His silver cross earring jingled and his black beanie slid off his head.

A soft sigh reached his ears and he took an unhealthy gulp of rum before lolling his head to the side lazily, staring at one of his best friends. Kenny McCormick pushed his hood down and leaned in the door frame.

"Hey...Ken..." Stan's words were slurred and he took another large gulp of rum, spilling most of it on his nevermore shirt and face, smearing his eyeliner and soaking his shirt's collar.

"Hey, Raven. It's been awhile since you reared your ugly head. I heard about you and Wendy again. Henrietta said that you didn't even stop to see them after this breakup either. You usually go to them first and then get drunk off your fucking ass."

Raven shrugged as much as he could from his laying down position. "Yeah, well. I figured I'd just get drunk and everything first!"

"You can't keep doing this to Stan, Raven. You are slowly killing him."

_"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?"_

Kenny narrowed his eyes at the other. "Enough is enough, Raven."

_"For passionate love is still divine. I lov'd her as an angel might. With ray of the all living light, which blazes upon Edis' shrine."_

Slow, deliberate steps came forward, like the blonde was approaching a wild animal. He knelt by the bed, Raven laid on and ran his hand gently through the dark locks. "Yeah, yeah. I get it Raven. You're coming out to keep Stan from feeling this hurt, but you're hurting yourself too." Tears beaded in the corners of Raven's eyes. Kenny's smiled so genuinely it really hurt Raven's chest. he didn't put up much of a fight as Kenny pried the half-empty bottle of rum from between his fingers, setting it on the nightstand. Raven said not a word as Kenny continued petting his head and mumbling soothing words into his ears. "It's time to go back to sleep Raven. I think Stan's gonna want to see the sun again soon."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. Goodnight, Kenny."

"Goodnight, my Raven."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest, this started out as Stan being an alcoholic, which he still is kinda, but as I wrote this out it morphed into a kind of split personality disorder that Stan has. Whenever something really upsetting happens and depresses/saddens him a great deal, his goth persona of 'Raven' comes out and deals with the emotional pain for him. I honestly like how this came out compared to my original plan for Stan's chapter.


	11. Kyle Broflovski

_Perfect._

He was perfect.

The perfect student. The perfect citizen. The perfect Jew. The perfect son. The perfect of the perfect, even.

Kyle Broflovski was perfect and he always has to be perfect. For now and forever.

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

He gets A after A after A, anything lower and he's in trouble.

Like today.

He got a B+, just one problem wrong. One point away from his perfect A. His mother was gonna have his head.

This is how Kyle found himself hiding in one of the school's janitor closets, having a near mental breakdown.

He was  _doomed._

The door opened a blonde head peeked in.

"Thought I'd find you here."

"Go...Go aw-*hic*-way, Kenny."

"You're crying so no." Kenny quietly closed the door behind him and knelt next to the redhead. "C'mon, what's the matter? I saw you run out of class right after the bell rang. Something happen?"

Kyle numbly held up his test paper and Kenny blinked, dumbfounded.

"Okay? You did great, the best in the class I'm sure. You missed one problem, so what's the big deal?"

"M-My mom's gonna have my head!" Realization dawned on the blonde redneck.

"I see." Kenny made himself comfortable and wrapped his arms around Kyle. "Shhh. It's okay. You're perfect no matter what any dumb paper or person says. "Perfect. Perfect. Perfect."

Perfect.


	12. Heidi Turner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be the NICE, non-Cartman Heidi that I'm sure many favor. And, I know, it's short. Sue me.

It was happening again. They were saying those  _awful_ _things_. Tears trailed down her face. That Skankhunt person was back and he ended up drawing other trolls towards her. Heidi began to sob. She couldn't even bring herself to go to school after the rumors people began to spread from all of this online hate towards her.

Unknown to her, a you man wearing purple with a green 'M' stood on a tree branch outside her open window, with a clear view of her computer's screen.

Mysterion's features darkened even more and he waited for Heidi to fall asleep, oblivious to the man that began to creep into her darkened bedroom. It wasn't hard for him to pull up Heidi's social media and find the pages of her cyber attackers. Mysterion had gotten wind of what was going down from Bebe Stevens and felt the need to step in. Skanthunt42 and his fellow trolls' days were numbered. Mysterion would make sure of it.

He fled out the bedroom window, his cape billowing behind him, in pursuit of the trolls that prayed on innocent girls.

When Heidi awoke the next morning, expecting the usual spam of insults and abuse, she was shocked to see there was none. And all the previous one? Gone too. She searched for the profiles of her trolls and, sure enough, they could not be found.

Tears of complete and utter joy filled her eyes and Heidi sent up a pray to whoever may be listening to her, thanking them dearly.

Mysterion suppressed a smile from where he stood on the same branch.


End file.
